“Look here,” he said with bitterness, “all you’ve had to do is to catch those fish. That’s easy; the sea’s full of ’em. What have I got to do? I’ve got to clean ’em and pack ’em and ice ’em and ship ’em. I’m overpaying you; that’s what I’m doing.”
“What am I going to do with the others?” Tish demanded angrily. “Seventy pounds of good fish, and half the nation needing food.”
“You might send it to Congress,” he suggested. “They say it’s good for the brain—phosphorus.”
“You must eat a great deal of fish!” said Tish witheringly.
“Or,” he said, brightening, “take it home to the cat. There’s nothing a cat will get real worked up about like a nice mess of fish.”
He then went up the ladder, leaving us in speechless fury. But Tish recovered quickly and began figuring again. “Six haddock at seven pounds each,” she said. “Forty-two pounds at thirty-five cents per pound, or about fourteen dollars. At least we’ve made our expenses. And of course we can eat some.”
Aggie, who had felt the motion severely coming in, raised herself from the bottom of the boat at this, and asked for another sip of cordial.
“They smell,” she wailed, and fell back again.
“All perfectly healthy fish smell,” said Tish.
“So does a healthy skunk,” said Aggie, holding her handkerchief to her nose, “but I don’t pretend to like it.”